


Straight To My Head

by dornessiti



Series: Fall Tumblr GoT Prompts [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode: s06e09 Battle of the Bastards, First Kiss, M/M, THIS IS VERY SHORT OKAY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 15:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20762954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dornessiti/pseuds/dornessiti
Summary: The Battle of The Bastards (06x09) through Jon Snow’s eyes, with a little extra





	Straight To My Head

**Author's Note:**

> This was posted originally on my tumblr (oathoftheheart)

_ Men falling from their horses. A thousand different screams. Blood and dirt and shit._

_ Rickon falling. _

_His body that’s still so small after all these years. A boy who hadn’t the time to become a man. _

Jon can hear everything and nothing all at once. The clashing of swords, the whistling of arrows that rain above his men, the sounds of running and panic all around him. 

He’s fought before- countless times- but nothing like this. This battle is it’s own kind of hell and he’s lead them right into it. The piles of bodies begin to rise around them like a nightmarish version of the Wall; countless faces lying blind and still, some familiar and many not. 

The air is so thick with smoke and heat that there are times when it’s almost impossible to tell between friend or foe, and they must rely only on looking for who’s charging at you with steel and who’s riding down your next opponent to give you time to run. 

Over and over again, as many men that he can kill, twice as many come pouring right passed him. As many times that his sword carves through muscle and bone, Ramsay Bolton’s voice carries over the battlefield with orders that take down another hundred of Jon’s men. 

_Nock._

_Loose._

_Nock._

_Loose._

There’s no end to it. The death just keeps coming in waves- strong and relentless. And then a Bolton soldier knocks him to the ground and it’s all he can do to block the man’s swings with the length of his blade. 

His breath is coming out in huge heaving gasps, and his arms burn with the effort of protecting his exposed neck. _I’m going to die again. _This will be it for him then. No coming back, no third chances. 

A thunderous roar comes from close by and then the Bolton man is crying out, his body sliding limp and lifeless off of the sword that had plunged through his back. 

_Tormund. _

The giant wildling grabs him by the front of his battle leathers and pulls him to standing. His left hand slides firmly behind Jon’s neck while his other hand keeps him upright, forcing him to look into those fierce, steady blue eyes. 

“Hey!” Tormund shouts gravely.

Jon sucks in a deep lungful of air at the sound of his voice. He had begun to slip without even realizing it. The sights, the sounds around them, it had become too much- though he hates to admit it, even to himself. Another few minutes, and he might have been truly lost. 

But Tormund is here. He’s fighting with him, fighting _for him,_and it clears his mind of anything else but the thought that if he must die today- if he can no longer fight for himself- then he must fight to keep this man alive. 

The understanding hits him harder than any arrow could. 

He had knelt before him a lifetime ago, though it had been a mistake at the time, and now he’s filled with a choking desperation to let him know before it’s too late. To let Tormund know that if he could pledge himself all over again and truly mean it this time, he would. 

More than a little wild with it, Jon clutches at his furs and drags him down into a kiss. Tormund grunts in surprise but doesn’t pull away. If anything, he moves impossibly closer, his strong hands bruising and unyielding in their hold on him. 

They’re both painted in blood and the metallic taste is disgustingly heavy on their tongues, but his lips are surprisingly soft and warm and Jon can’t help but think that this would be a much better way to die than the last time. 

He goes to pull away, remembering all too soon that there’s still a battle going on, but Tormund chases after his lips and keeps him still for just a second longer. Just long enough to memorize the shape of his mouth and the feeling of Jon’s body beneath his. 

And then it ends. And the sights and sounds around them flood back in, but it isn’t as loud as before. 

This time, Jon lifts his sword as easily as if it hadn’t been used at all, and the screaming of his tired muscles is nearly forgotten completely. 

When he faces the Bolton army again, this time he thinks;

_Let them come._


End file.
